


Drunken Expeditions: Tsukishima Kei

by myria_chan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, drunk!Tsukki, where are the drunk!tsukki fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myria_chan/pseuds/myria_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt : Change characters | Drunk!Tsukki courtesy of Noya-san and Tanaka-san, and sometimes taking the less invasive approaches are the quickest roads to romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Expeditions: Tsukishima Kei

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Haikyuu!!
> 
> An attempt to write drunk!Tsukkixsober!Yama after the stroke of midnight. Please read on your own volition. Beware of fluff.

In the twenty years of Tadashi Yamaguchi’s existence, he had experience his fair share of terror and excitement. The bullying he received during elementary, the bullying he returned during middle school, volleyball in high school was an amalgamation of bitter defeats, national championships and the best kind of friendships that would last a lifetime. College was proving to be quite the challenge; his junior year in Business Administration was filled with theorems and modernistic and methodological approaches for qualitative service improvement, and their concurrent application in commerce and industrial trade. Studying for a specific goal was proving to be quite fun and enjoyable, though the endless list of research and reading he had to do was quite overwhelming, to be honest.

But absolutely nothing was as traumatizing, as overwhelming, and probably quite as amusing as a drunken Kei Tsukishima. How Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai managed to spike Tsukki’s iced tea was beyond him. Actually, he did not want to know. The less he associated with disaster, the longer he’d live.

If only Tsukki was the type of drunk who sat quietly on the corner and brood. No, Kei Tsukishima, the notorious middle blocker from Karasuno Volleyball Team, King of Trash Talk, Mr. Iceberg himself—because his defensive blocks and personality were as formidably arctic as a floating mountain ice of the Antarctic Sea. Some would even ascertain that it was Tsukishima who sank the Titanic so many years ago (which was contested since Tsukki wasn’t even born during those times, and the unsinkable ship sank in the Atlantic Region of the globe, but that was beside the point)—was the aggressively loud drunk. Intoxicated Tsukki was one who spoke of his mind regardless if people even listened to him, cracked pick-up lines at every opportune possibility, and hogged the karaoke machine all to himself.

Thank the heavens Sugawara-san had the presence of mind to book a private room for their karaoke venture. Once a team mom, always a team mom, Tadashi thought, taking a sip on his iced tea and casting casual glances on his uncannily boisterous friend, belting out an Utada Hikaru favorite.

“You are always gonna be the one, mada kanashii love SONGU~! Now and forever… DAROU!!!!!!!”

The high-pitched squeal at the very end was well-received by his bleeding eardrums and splitting headache; Tadashi felt his soul jarred away from his body momentarily to escape this musical torture. Who knew that for all of Tsukki’s love for music, the guy was practically tone deaf?

Tsukki’s musical talent was vocal carnage at its finest but nobody cared because Tsukki had never looked more alive, more liberated than this moment. Pre-Law must have really taken a toll on his friend. Then again, the whole Karasuno Club must be taking advantage of the situation, what with the numerous of mobile phones on record and with Tsukki not in the right mind to enact an intimidating retort as of the moment. Blackmail material, Tadashi concluded, classic Karasuno. All those years of pent-up remorse had led to these.

Tsukki would now be at their disposal.

At the side of the room, the primary culprits were torn between jeers, tears and cheers. Nishinoya-senpai was laughing so hard, Azumane-senpai had to hand him a box of tissue. Beside him, Tanaka-san was hooting in delight, totally oblivious or ignoring all-together the amount of death glares of doom, death and destruction Ennoshita-senpai was sending him.

The song abruptly ended, drum rolls filing the room as everyone patiently waited for the score to be revealed.

“99!!!” Tsukki practically screamed; fist pumped in the air. “I am so talented; I should be having a career in music, it says. I should have pursued a higher education in orchestra. No court of law in Japan could contest this, hic!”

“Let go of the microphone, Tsukishima!!!” Kageyama threw an ice cube at his direction, which Tsukki parried in reflex.

“Haters gonna hate.” It was amazing that in this state of mind, Tsukki could still manage to throw a jeer, avoiding the second ice cube with ease.  Tsukki was about to throw in another witty repose, but to everyone’s surprise, he paused, eyes trailing from Kageyama to Hinata.

Hinata sputtered his drink. “Why do I have a feeling that I should be calling child services right now?”

Grabbing the remote, humming a tune under his breath, Tsukki selected his next choice of victim, er… masterpiece, and the title flashed in the screen. “This one’s for you.” Hinata physically shuddered.

“Aye no Engrish beri well,” Hinata reiterated in the broken language, and Yamaguchi patted his back sympathetically.

In response, Tsukki winked—yes, winked—and Tadashi had this realization that that wink would haunt him to the depths of eternities, and patted Hinata’s back some more.

“I could stay awake just to heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear you… breathing! Watch’ya smile why you are sleepin’. Wondering if it’s me you’re seeing.” The lyrics moght be wrong, but Tsukki continued singing like there was no tomorrow.

“I think I should run.”

“Don’t worry, Hinata,” reassured Sawamura-san, his daddy-smile big on his face. “We’ll protect you!” then continued filming. At his left, Sugawara-san hooted a whistle.

At first, Tadashi wanted to end this madness before it began—what’s with friendship and loyalty, after all—but seeing the genuine sheen of happiness cross Tsukki’s features, uninhibited, authentic, and bordering on delirium as it may be; was a sight Tadashi was not entirely in utmost opposition.

There would be bloodshed after this reunion party; lawsuits would be flying, as well. But that’s for tomorrow.

By the time his friend was belting out the bridge, Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai decided to spare Tsukishima the utmost humiliation and sing the bloody spectacle out of the popular foreign hit along with him.

“I DON’T WANNA CROSS MA ICE!!!!!!!” bellowed Tanaka-san, shirt taken off.

Tsukishima grabbed the mike and yelled, “I DON’T WANNNA FAAAAAAALLL, asheep yeah!”

“I don’t wanna miss a thing,” finished by Nishinoya-senpai, boy-band face in place.

Everyone stood on their feet and clapped the life out of their hands. A for effort; the score was 89, and the three shared a brofist made for the books.

“Pass down thy genes for the world to see,” Nishinoya-san read out loud and high-fived Tsukki.

“Kiyoko-san, can we now have your babies?” Tanaka-senpai asked enthusiastically. Shimizu-san pursed her lips, and slowly shook her head. His reaction was to wail heavily on a corner.

Nishinoya-senpai beamed. “Oh well. Better luck next time, Asahi-san!” Azumane-senpai returned the grin, and then when Nishinoya-senpai wasn’t looking, shot apologetic glances at Shimizu-senpai.

“One more song!!!” Yachi cheered from out of nowhere, and seconds later, the entire team was chanting along with her, craving for one final performance that would end Kei Tsukishima’s reputation once and for all.

“I think I can sing…one song,” Tsukki said finally, breaking the magical moment with an alcohol-induced boyish grin; the group breathed sighs of disappointment and partial relief, he added, “five more times!” Shouts of praises thundered to the roofs. “This last song is dedicated to Yamaguchi.”

For a split second, he felt it—Tsukki’s gaze on him. It had the same intensity during their mini confrontation at the first Tokyo training camp, but lighter, less surprised, deliberate; Tadashi watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions swirl in those brown eyes and was captivated, trapped inside an unspoken communication they had grown to share during the years spent together.

Tsukki was trying to tell him something, but he could decipher what, the room was filled with soft acoustic intro.

"Ayyiii!!!” cried some of the members of their team, cameras and smart phones darting to his direction, and Tadashi shifted in his seat, all the unwarranted attention was making him uncomfortable.

 "Hold me close,” Tsukki started and walked the dangerous trail to Tadashi’s seat, and the latter pressed his back on the cushioned seat for reassurance, the room’s sudden silence was rather alarming, not to mention the foreboding presence pitched to him.

  _And hold me fast_

_This magic spell you cast, this is La Vie En Rose_

“Somebody translate…” Tadashi heard Hinata whispered.

“Aye no Engrish beri well, as well,” answered Kageyama, very proud.

 “Shut up, you bastards…!” An audible thump—Sawamura-san’s voice promised mayhem and malice.

_W_ _hen you kiss me, heaven sighs._

_And though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose_

Tadashi could really understand if he focused on reading the lyrics on the screen, but the expression on Tsukki’s features made him not to.

_When you press me to your heart_

_I’m in a world apart_

_A world where roses bloom_

There was an uncharacteristic tenderness, one that was reserved to be shared for the Tsukishima family alone: spilling on words, softening a smile, drifting through fathomless depths of bespectacled eyes.

Tadashi always thought Tsukki had the most stunning pair of eyes.

They were a mesmerizing shade of gold complemented by muted tones of honey. At courtside, his eyes glint a dangerous bronze in amber highlights, hardened by talent and cynicism, ready to smite with practiced sarcasm at an open opportunity, brandishing a much darker hue when angered or irritated. When he smiled—the kind that reached his eyes—they were a warm, delightful caramel.

Right now, his eyes were dyed by the most regal shades of gold, as sultry as chocolate and sin; Tadashi was drowning in a sea of brown and gold, falling in love all over again.

Crap, and Tsukki did not even have to use auto-tune!

_And when you speak, angels sing from above_

_Every day words seem to turn into love songs_

_Give your heart and soul to me_

“And life will always be…” Tsukki knelt, took hold one of his hands, and looked up. There was a lump on Tadashi’s throat, and it was hard to breathe all of a sudden.

 _La Vie En Rose_ , the screen finished without the singer, who decided to end his final masterpiece by dropping to the floor, a loud snore announcing his departure from consciousness.

* * *

Kei Tsukishima woke up on the right side of the wrong bed; head was splitting the world’s greatest hangover and body as languid as the day he was born. He had no idea where he was at present, only that the sun was shining far too brightly for his enjoyment and his breath was far too ghastly to be described.  He had this sudden urge to shoot the chirping birds outside the window for violation of city noise ordinance and disruption of public peace.

Muttering a curse, he drew the covers over his head and settled deeply, preparing to doze off –only to be rudely awakened by the door opening and shuffling feet on floorboards.

“Tsukki,” the voice called, as deafening as twenty marching bands of a town festival—Tsukishima voiced a terse word.

“Why are you screaming?” was asked in a slow paced, menace threading his voice in tight seams, and Tsukishima brought himself to sitting position.

Opening his eyes, Yamaguchi greeted him with a smile and a cup of steaming coffee.

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi whispered, shoulders hunching in a suppressed giggle. The bed creaked against their combined weight and shifty movements; Tsukishima felt that silent protest crawling to the back of his skull and physically shuddered. Everything should be sued for attacking his frazzled nerves.

Placing his cup to his lips, he welcomed the comforting scent and taste of freshly brewed coffee. “What happened?”

Yamaguchi’s laugh was forceful and nervous; Tsukishima’s anxiety took turn for the worst. “You were drunk?”

“Please tell me I did not do anything improper.”

“You did not do anything improper, Tsukki.”

“Great. Now, mean it.”

The response he had gotten was Tadashi looking extremely fascinated at the bottom of his coffee mug, a direct refusal to look at him at all cost.

“That bad?” 

“You sang me a love song, and some more.” Tadashi still looked away, a blush heightening the pigmentation of his freckles that Tsukishima found adorable—despite of which, he groaned. _Great_ , Tsukishima thought. He hadn’t been awake for half an hour and he already wanted the day to end. This was where the awkwardness would begin.

All because he had taken Nishinoya-san’s and Tanaka-san’s advice and sing his confession through a love song. Ah… drunken bliss. He would have to take note his exceedingly gullible nature influenced by alcohol spirits.

He also briefly wondered what _some more_ meant.

Feeling his cheeks burning, Tsukishima took another long drink. “I suppose you fell madly in love with my romantic serenades, and some more?”

“Ah yes… If only you could sing,” was the nonchalant answer, a crude joke that he was willing to exchange with on any normal day. As of the moment, he was offended.

Because he never had the passion to do the extraordinary for anything in his life, and all his carefully laid plans were thwarted by his lack of singing prowess; _the injustice of it all._ “Are you saying that my attempts are futile?”

“I’m saying that if you want to go out, we should start small: like coffee.”

Tsukishima blinked— _Did you just_ —he stopped that thought from forming and ignored it all together. Yamaguchi was staring at him, expecting him to voice quirky retort of some sort. “Life is not a shoujo manga.”

 _Touché,_ his mind grumbled _._ Tsukishima chose to ignore that, as well.

“Yeah, but it works every time. Take for example:” Yamaguchi joined their cups in an audible ping. “We’re having coffee right now.”

Once again, Yamaguchi’s words were far cooler than his endless rumination. He has really become very cool.

“Crafty,” he said instead, and returned the gesture.

To which, a laugh was elicited—chortled and authentic—the laugh he would live to listen to every day; Tsukishima smiled despite himself. “I’ll take that as an invitation for dinner,” Yamaguchi said.

And Kei Tsukishima fell in love all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you very much for reading! It is 5am in the morning and my mind’s in desperate need for sleep. Sorry in advance for all the mistakes. Happy TsukiYama week!
> 
> Songs in used are: First Love (Utada Hikaru), I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing (Aerosmith), La Vie En Rose (Louise Armstrong)


End file.
